The
Germans have a word for it. We don’t. I don’t know why
that is, but it is. The word is Schadenfreude, which means
joy at the misfortune of another. The nearest we come to Schadenfreude
in this country are certain stupid shows on television, but in German
it apparently is a well developed concept, and I am cautiously allowing
myself to experience it now.

I
refer of course to the defeat of the Hillary womanoid by Senator Hussein.
When she finally did announce it – when I finally did hear the
treasured words from her lips – I must say I experienced a surge
of intense joy, so intense that it approached the spiritual, a joy
that lingered, that kept returning to be relished. Whenever it flared
up, I could do nothing but enjoy it.

Now
I am ruminating on that unusual intensity. How to explain it? Consider
that a year or so ago, we were told there would never be such a presidential
campaign. It would be less a campaign than a coronation, a series
of august personal appearances on the way to the throne. Her nomination
and election would be mere formalities. The result was ordained. No
mere male could contest it.

She
was the wisest woman in our galaxy, the noblest woman of them all,
much wiser and nobler, much more of everything than you and I. Of
course it was ordained! She deserved it, not merely because of
what she had accomplished, but because of what she was. Her presidency
and its fruits (not a pun) would be the ultimate proof that predatory
bull dykes should rule the United States.

All
of this was a symptom, a manifestation, of the criminal mind Hillary
exemplifies. She is a psychopath, incapable of normal, human emotion
– who paradoxically can feign such emotion on command so brilliantly
it seems more genuine than the real thing – a psychopath for
whom the rest of us are nothing more than objects to be used, pack
animals too stupid to deserve the truth.

One
recalls that Soviet dictator Nikita Khrushchev disrupted a UN session
in New York, pounding on the desk in his delegation with a shoe. During
that visit, he marveled at American naiveté. “These Americans!”
he exclaimed. “You can spit in their face and they call it dew!”
He was right, of course.

And
so it is with the Clintons. They spit in our face and tell us it is
dew; and if we refuse to believe them they become offended. They are
what Ted Bundy would have been had he entered politics. They are possibly
implicated in more murders than he was, maybe because he was more
discriminating. As far as we know Ted only killed women. The list
of Clinton corpses is too long to cite here.

And
so it is that I revel in Schadenfreude. As I said, I do so
with caution, precisely because they are psychopaths, whose unfathomable
evil approaches the supernatural. Yes, she has announced her campaign
is dead but can we believe it? Dee Wallace thought Cujo was dead;
after what she had done to him he should have been, but he wasn’t.

Michael Douglas thought Glenn Close was dead – no normal woman
could survive under water that long – but she wasn’t either.
And those are just a couple of examples. Can we revel in the assurance
that the Hillaroid will not emerge in some different Frankenstein
form from the dust bin, pull the stake from her heart and erupt in
that terrifying cackle? Is her demise a trick, the two steps back
Lenin recommended the revolutionary take when opposed?

Please
do not write to tell me that Schadenfreude is not Christian,
that it is utterly pointless, because Senator Hussein is as much a
Communist as she is. I know all that and cannot help it. I know it
but am consumed by a visceral delight much stronger than I am. If
you leave me alone, in time I could recover. But there is a much more
significant aspect of all this, that has nothing to do with some possibly
misplaced revelry.

Hillary’s
womanoid candidacy is the most malevolent, most destructive expression
so far of the satanic feminist revolt calculated to destroy our civilization.
It raises the perennial question of a woman’s “place.”
What? Women have a place? Yes, I recognize that, because
of lifelong brainwashing, the mere use of that word in that context
inspires womanoids everywhere to whirl like dervishes; to which I
say, whirl away. Because of that brainwashing, even normal women become
disturbed.

All
right, now that the dervishes have whirled off, yes, women have a
place; I contend that women are not in that place and that is why
so many women are so crazy. We know why women are not in their place;
we have taken long looks at that subject in many of these pieces.
Because it is our hope to salvage what we can, the question now becomes:
What is their place?

The
best way to answer that is: the woman’s place is to follow.
The woman’s place is to follow the man. The lady’s place
is to follow her man. The man’s place is to lead. Right here,
I’ll wait a few minutes for those of you who by now think you
have suffered major heart attacks to recover. You do not need to call
the paramedics. You will survive. Just breathe deeply and catch your
breath. You are the victim of too many female kung-fu movies.

Of
course these modest, sensible comments inspire bull dykes and other
deranged womanoids to fury. One of the reasons is that many of them
believe I have capriciously made all this up because I am a “male
chauvinist pig,” or a “sexist oppressor,” or whatever.
And if that were true – if this arrangement were entirely my
idea – then maybe I would deserve those endearing sobriquets.

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The
problem is that, because so many of these brainwashed womanoids are
atheists, they don’t understand that this arrangement isn’t
mine – I had nothing to do with it – it’s God’s.
Hey, Ellen, ever hear of Him? How do we know this is God’s work?
We know it because it is what He says in His book. It’s called
the Bible. Yes, I know it’s by far the biggest
seller of all time – no other book comes close – but,
hey, Rosie, I know you’re a busy womanoid, about to remarry
your girl friend. Maybe it got past you.

You’ve
read the reviews – this feeble attempt is one of them –
now read the Book and see for yourself. In it you will see not only
that God assigns the woman’s place; He also assigns the man’s.
The man is the leader because that’s what God wants. Why? I
have no idea. God does what He does for His own pleasure, without
consulting me. Can you imagine? In fact, let’s get really controversial.
God is even smarter than Hillary Clinton. And I have found
that things go much better for me when I shut up, stop complaining
and get with the Divine program. You can complain about it all you
like. You won’t outtalk God. We are both – male and female
– the property of Jesus Christ who created us.

What
does it mean to lead and to follow? How does the Divine program work?
It begins with the future man obeying a woman, obeying her for years.
This is an essential element in the process, because without it the
future man will be a brute; he will lack the experience and understanding
to lead another woman with sympathy. That is one of the many reasons
the maternal presence is so crucial.

Confronted
with this arrangement, the womanoids rage that it means sequestration
at home, forbidden to leave, forbidden to pursue some interest or
career. No, you are thinking of the Mohammedan sex, money and power
racket, in which the woman is a prisoner, often permitted to show
nothing but her eyes, if that much, forbidden to drive. Notice that
the womanoids have not a screech to say about the anti-female horrors
of Islam; instead, they go hydro about our Christian civilization,
where women have the best lives they have ever lived anywhere.

We
are not talking about suppressing women, but about liberating them.
We are not talking about intelligence. Hillary, for just one example,
is demonstrably brilliant, more so than many men, which is irrelevant.
If a woman has a talent, a predilection, for something, I suggest
getting out of her way and helping her if you can. That is not what
we are talking about.

We
are also not talking about strength. The strongest men yield to God.
So do the strongest women. Do you really want a weak, whiny, wimpy
woman? A dumb woman who can’t do anything? Of course not! You
want the strongest woman you can get. An example of the kind of woman
I am talking about – who certainly dates me, but you will know
what I mean – are the movie personae portrayed by Maureen O’Hara.
She is a red-headed spitfire, ferociously strong and at the same time
intensely, totally feminine.

What kind of man does such a woman want? A “metrosexual”
who isn’t sure what sex he is? A pansy who is sure? A wimp “in
touch with his feelings” who knows how to “show his feminine
side?” No, pal, that’s feminoid garbage. Take it from
the world’s foremost authority on the subject. She wants a man
who has the cojones to be her true spiritual leader. If she doesn’t
get it, she feels cheated, becomes testy, a vulnerable target for
feminoid propaganda, and takes her deprivation out on her man. Remember
that in “Quiet Man” John Wayne doesn’t get to take
wife Maureen to bed until he proves he deserves her.

The
main reason today’s women are much crazier than they should
be is that the predatory bull dykes who control that part of the power
structure are inimically hostile to everything feminine. They say
they are in favor of liberating women, but everything they advocate
denigrates women. They want women strutting in pants, not in dresses.
They want women to display the cracks in their tattooed heinies like
plumbers. They want women in the military, killing like Rambo. They
want women to foal and go back to work.

What
is the worst thing a woman can do, where is the worst place she can
be, in the deranged minds of these predatory bull dykes? Isn’t
it being at home, making a home for her family? Where else would you
think the phrase “just a housewife” originated? Remember
that today’s feminism is a tool of the Communist scheme for
world government. When a lady says she is “just a housewife”
to me I become the Incredible Hulk. When I get done she never says
it again.

Nothing
is more important to the preservation of our civilization and country
than the housewife. Did you forget? “The hand that rocks the
cradle rules the world.” Sometimes, if I suspect a lady I have
just met is getting ready to tell me she is “just a housewife,”
I ask, “So, are you a doctor, a lawyer, an engineer, a test
pilot, a SWAT team terrorist, or are you something really important
like a homemaker?” Instead, from earliest girlhood, she is told
over and over that to be somebody important she must leave the home
and forsake the family. No wonder so many women go berserk.

Without
a woman, you cannot have a real home. You have a place to flop. Women
are the greatest thing God created. Most of the time, I can tell if
a place contains a woman. One of my single sons maintained a combination
arboretum and insect ranch under the coffee table. Every few months,
when I returned to inspect, it was still there, except it had metastasized.
Is he stupid? No, in fact he has an M.A. in mathematics, and works
for a huge defense contractor. If you get crossways with him, he could
drop a missile in your lap. But he is male. Now that he cleverly has
married a lady with two engineering degrees, the combination arboretum
and insect ranch is gone.

I
am decrepit enough to remember that the homemaker of old had immense
authority. If you challenged that authority, she might whip you herself.
Or, if she didn’t feel like making the trip to the wood shed,
when Dad got home, she would merely point at the trembling offender.
Also, didn’t women do most of the charity and other good works
in the community? If the women are working all day and come home exhausted,
who will do all that? Answer: the government. It works better when
women do it.

Again,
the best clue to what is wrong is Simone de Beauvoir, a drunk, a dyke,
a traitor to France, a Communist and a founder of today’s feminism.
Womanoids everywhere revere her. Remember she admitted that most women
want to stay home, so in her ideal world that would be forbidden.
They would be dragged into the street and forced into the office and
the factory, as in the Soviet Union and Red China, which she passionately
defended. They would not be allowed to stay at home.

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So,
the problem in our culture is not that Christianity would keep women
at home. The problem is that feminism would kick them into the street.
Again, feminism may well be the worst thing that ever happened to
this country. We must restore the idea that if a girl has some talent
she wants to express, if she wants to become a doctor or lawyer, for
instance, that’s fine; and it is just as fine, just as important
– more important – to make a home. We need to stop denigrating
femininity.

Alan
Stang was one of Mike Wallace’s original writers at Channel 13 in New
York, where he wrote some of the scripts that sent Mike to CBS. Stang
has been a radio talk show host himself. In Los Angeles, he went head
to head nightly with Larry King, and, according to Arbitron, had almost
twice as many listeners. He has been a foreign correspondent. He has written
hundreds of feature magazine articles in national magazines and some fifteen
books, for which he has won many awards, including a citation from the
Pennsylvania House of Representatives for journalistic excellence. One
of Stang’s exposés stopped a criminal attempt to seize control of New
Mexico, where a gang seized a court house, held a judge hostage and killed
a deputy. The scheme was close to success before Stang intervened. Another
Stang exposé inspired major reforms in federal labor legislation.

His first book,
It’s Very Simple: The True Story of Civil Rights, was an instant best-seller.
His first novel, The Highest Virtue, set in the Russian Revolution, won
smashing reviews and five stars, top rating, from the West Coast Review
of Books, which gave five stars in only one per cent of its reviews.

Stang has lectured
in every American state and around the world and has guested on many top
shows, including CNN’s Cross Fire. Because he and his wife had the most
kids in Santo Domingo, the Dominican Republic, where they lived at the
time, the entire family was chosen to be actors in “Havana,” directed
by Sydney Pollack and starring Robert Redford, the most expensive movie
ever made (at the time). Alan Stang is the man in the ridiculous Harry
Truman shirt with the pasted-down hair. He says they made him do it.